Benoa tdpan.
~miBellefonte, Pa., July 29, 1898.
A SUGGESTION TO THE WAR DE-
PARTMENT.
What shall we do with poor old Cery,
The Don who never lost his nerve,
But fought with a great display ot verve
Off Santiago Bay ?
Shall we keep him in jail,
Where his nerve will fail ?
In a dungeon deep
Where things that creep
In the Spanish way?
Let’s rather say ;
“See here, old chap,
Your late mishap
Fills us with glee,
But sympathy
For a chap like you,
A sailor gallant, a foen.an true.
So, instead of a dungeon deep and dank,
And chains that clatter and chains that clank,
We'll give you the merriest kind of prank.
Come down to town
And do it brown—
Mayhap instead
You'll color it red.
Come up to the gardens on the roof
And see how we manage our opera-boutfe,
Come into our clubs, O foeman true,
And let us jollily jolly you.
Come into our cafes on every hand
And fatten yourself on the fat of the land.
Come into our swellest of swell hotels :
Whatever you wish just ring the bells,
In short, although you're under restraint,
Just make up your mind that you really ain't,
And while you're in town pretend that you
Are not naught but a jolly old Yankee, too.”
—Harpers Bazar.
AN UNPRODUCTIVE ROMANCE.
If the man had only spoken—had only
explained—the whole affair would have
had a different ending. But he refused to
say why this was so, and why that wasn’t
so—and a summer romance was spoiled,
and a man and a woman hid their hurts
and the world jogged on.
It all came about over a philopena debt
—and of having time to kill, and hills to
climb, and of reading Tennyson to the
tune of splashing mountain cascades. For
she was merely a woman and he was mere-
ly a man, and the blue haze on the mount-
ains and the tender gleam of the sun in the
valley, and the song of birds and the pun-
gent smell of pines and rhododendrons—
all these are to blame.
After they'd eaten philopena, she asked
Ashton what he wanted ; for her part
she’d take a pair of silver embroidery scis-
sors. No she wouldn’t want that—seis-
sors cut friendship, she said.
“Friendship isn’t the dearest thing in
the world, Miss Ames,’’ said Ashton quiet-
ly, and his eyes shot a challenge.
‘No ?’’ she queried. ‘‘Well, I’ve never
found anything quite so dear.” °°
“Nor I,” he answered ; ‘‘yet I know it
exists.”
And then they hoth were busy with
their thoughts.
After a space she said :
must I give you ?”’
“Suppose we make it anything I ask
for.”
‘But it might be something awfully ex-
travagant, and I am terribly poor just
now."
“Well, suppose I say it won’t cost you
much.”’
‘All right,’’ she answered, after a mo-
ment’s hesitation ; ‘‘I’m agreed.”
And ten minutes later he had passed her
his book and shouted ‘‘philopena.”’
“Well what do you want?’’ she asked.
“A kiss.”
Of course, she got indignant then—only
mildly so, of course—but it is the first law
in social ethics that a woman should grow
indiguant when a man asks her for a kiss.
It isn’t becoming, nor maidenly, for a wo-
man to yield at once—and Miss Ames knew
what was correct and what was not.
And so for fifteen minutes they argued
pro and con, she parrying with consum-
mate skill and plying the eternal question
of women—*“What in the world would he
think of her if she would allow him to kiss
her ?”’
“But if you don’t,’’ he persisted, ‘‘you
break your word.’’
‘‘But if I do,” she answered, ‘‘I lose my
self respect.’’
‘‘Nonsense.”’ he answered fallaciously ;
“if you keep your word you can’t lose
your self respect.”’
‘Is keeping your word such a great
thing with you ?’’ she asked.
‘‘It is my one virtue,’ he answered very
seriously. ‘‘I have never broken it in my
life. Once upon a time, merely because I
kept my word, I got into trouble of a very
serious kind—and social ostracism followed.
But I kept my word, and I'm content.’
and he brought his lips closely together.
“You socially ostracised !"’" she said in-
credulously. “Why, what are you say-
ing?”
‘‘Nothing,”” he answered curtly ; “my
lips are sealed. But,” and his mood
changed. ‘‘are you going to keep your
word ?’’
She hesitated. ‘‘You said you’d ask me
for something that wouldn’t ‘cost much 2’
‘‘Well 2°’ he queried. ;
“Well, this would cost me a great deal, ”’
she answered slowly.
‘Then you refuse ?”’ he asked quietly.
She was plainly distressed. ‘I'd like to
keep my word, you know, seeing you put
such a great store by that. I'd like to
keep my word, indeed, I would ; but don’t
you see how hard you make it for me ?’’
“I told you before that it is hard at
times to keep one’s word, but that
shouldn’t deter one from keeping it.”
“‘Oh, it’s easy enough for a man to keep
his word.’
“Just as easy for a woman,’’ he an-
swered.
“Oh, no,” she said quickly, ‘‘women
are different.’
‘‘How different?’ -
She flustered about helplessly trying to
find an answer. *‘Oh, they're just differ-
ent,’’ she said finally,
‘Which means you break your word 2”
She kept silent for a long time. Then
in a voice so low it was almost a whisper
she said, her eyes on the ground, her face
scarlet : ‘I will keep my word.
“Thank you,” he said, as he rose to his
feet, “‘that was all I wished you to do.
You have kept your word by signifying
your intention to do what you promised.
I don’t want a kiss that is in payment of a
debt—ywhen you're ready to give me one of
your own free will, then I shall be very
glad—it will be a different sort of a kiss
then. I wanted you to keep your word—
and you’ve done so. Now, one’d better he
getting back to the hotel—it’s the dinner
hour.”
He helped her to her feet and she stood
up close to him and looked squarely into
his eyes. “Do you know,”’ she said un-
steadily, ‘you have made me very, very
happy by your generous behavior 7
‘Well, what
“Pray, don’t think of it,”’ he answered
easily.
And as they walked to the hotel he was
very careful to speak of impersonal topics
—the bracing air—the glint of the sun on a
patch of green firs—the shape of a cloud
that hung over a nearby mountain.
The next day she went to town—a tele-
gram from her mother, who was seriously
ill.
“I’ll be back in a couple of weeks,”
she said—‘‘will I find you here 2’
“I’ll wait until you come hack,’’ he an-
swered. ‘“May I hope for a letter from
you?!
‘‘Yes,”’ she answered. “I'll write and
let you know how mamma is.”’
And so she went away.
And right here the story should end, for
then the reader thinks that all good things
would come aright, and like the nice folks
in the fairy tales, ‘‘they married and lived
happily thereafter.” But fairy tales are
relegated to back closets when we grow up
and so this story must go on in a grown-up
way.
Two days after Miss Ames returned to
town Ashton received a letter. Its brevity
was its consoling feature.
MR. AsuroN : :
Since returning home 1 have learned of some-
thing that makes it imperative our friendship
should cease. I am deeply obliged for the cour-
tesy you have shown me. Please try and for-
get that we ever have met.
(Thursday. ) ANITA AMES.
Ashton sat down with a very white face
and penned the following :
Miss Ames:
There are two sides to every story. :
Mine has never been told, nor will it ever be.
I thank you for your very great promptness in
writing.
JAMES ASHTON,
Three more days elapsed and then an-
other letter came from Miss Ames. It was
longer than the first.
My Dear MR. AsuroN:
I cannot let your note, just received, go unan-
swered. Idid not want to hurt your feelings, for
you have been careful of mine, but under the un-
fortunate circumstances there was nothing left
for me to do but to write the note I did.
I wish you every success in life—and somehow
I'feel that you will achieve success.
(Sunday.) ANITA AMES.
Ashton did not reply to this note—it
needed no answer. And for the remaining
three weeks of his stay he lazied it through
the long days and slepi fitfully through the
nights.
The day before he was to go away the
hotel coach drove up to the door and Miss
Ames and her mother alighted. He put
his book closer to his eyes and pretended
to see nothing.
Ten minutes later Miss Ames came on
the porch. She looked around quickly—
Ashton and herself were the only persons
there. She walked up to him and held
out her hand. “I am glad to see you
again,” she said, simply.
He feigned not to see her hand and drop-
ped his book, so as togive her time. When
he had picked the book up her hand was
still outstretched.
“I trust your mother is better,” he
said.
“I am waiting for you to shake hands,”’
she said.
‘Oh, pardon me, I didn’t .see your
hand.”
‘‘You did see it,” she said.
He made no answer, but shook her hand
in a perfunctory way. Then he stood fac-
ing her. For fully a minute the man and
the woman stood there silent. He was
very cool, very self-possessed—she was em-
barrassed, restive.
‘Why don’t you say something?’ she
said, petulantly.
“What shall I say ?”’
‘‘Anything-—say you're glad to see me
in.”
‘That wouldn’t be true,” he answered,
quietly. ‘You wrote me that I was to for-
get we had ever met.”’
“But, I want you to say something,’
she persisted, ‘‘I want you to tell me your
side of the story.”
*‘I never break my word,’* he answered.
‘‘But you must in this case,” she said,
quickly.
“Must?” he said, coldly—sneeringly,
she thought.
“Yes—must—"’ and her lips were
a-tremble and her breath came in little
gasps. ‘I’ve heard horrible things—ter-
rible things—and you must tell me your
side of them. I’ll believe vou,’’ she added
quickly, “I'll believe you. You must tell
me.’’
‘‘And why must I tell you?’ he asked
in the same even tone that was habitual
with him.
‘‘Because you’ve hurt my pride—with-
out saying it you’ve made me feel that I’m
in the wrong—I don’t know why I feel
that way, but I do. You’ve made me feel
like a child that is being punished for
something—and you’ve hurt my pride.”
She was almost on the verge of crying.
“And I have too much pride to tell
you,”’ he said, his head high in the air.
‘‘Let people say what they want of me—
let them believe what they wish. I won’t
contradict or even modify any story that
you or anyone may choose to hear of me.
I made that promise and I won’t break my
word.”’
‘To whom did you make the promise?’
“Myself,” he said.
She looked at him critically, and there
was something in her eyes then that should
have made him speak—that should have
made him tell her, if not that which she
had asked, another story that men have.
told women since the day that man and
woman were born and will tell until the
earth has ceased so be.
‘‘Listen,” she said. ‘‘Please, please,
tell me. Think the matter over. No, no;
don’t say you won’t. If I see you after
supper, will you tell me?”
He hesitated, and in that second she
saw her advantage. She put her hand on
his arm, and looked up into his eyes—a
strange light there—‘‘the light that is nev-
er seen on land or sea.”
And a mighty struggle took place in the
man then. And he found it hard to swal-
low the lump that was in his throat, and to
clear away the mist that was in his eyes.
‘If you see me after supper I will tell
you,’ he said, steadily.
She tried to say something, but could
not. Instead, she ran quickly from him
and up the stairs. ’
But he never told her, because he did
not see her after supper, nor she him. He
had said : “If you see me after supper I
will tell you—"’ and he had made it im-
possible for her to see him, because he left
the hotel within ten minutes of the time
she had left him.
Which was very sad, possibly—and pos-
sibly not. All stories can’t end happily any
more so than can all lives. And fairy tales
are only for children.
—A large lumber deal was consumma-
ted at Clearfield last week by the sale of
the timber on the John Irvin estate, near
Curwensville, for $57,000 to H. H. McGee,
of McGees Mills. Samuel Small, of
York, is also interested in the purchase
and will begin cutting very soon.
Opening the Dark Continent.
It is just 21 years since Henry M. Stan-
ley, greatest of African explorers, surprised
the world by emerging from the western
side of Africa, at the mouth of the Congo.
He had been sent on an exploring expedi-
tion by the New York Herald and London
Telegraph. Entering Africa in 1874, at
Zanzibar, he had been heard from at inter-
vals for awhile, and then all traces of him
were lost. It was supposed he had per-
ished ; that he had either been stricken
with disease, massacred by his retinue or
had fallen a victim to some unknown sav-
age tribe in the vast interior of the conti-
nent. When the world had pretty gen-
erally settled down to this belief, the news
came that, with the remnant of his band,
he had emerged from the west coast and
had apparently accomplished the feat of
crossing equatorial - Africa, something that
had never been done before.
When he had recovered from the fatigues
of his journey he had a marvelous story to
relate. He had gone where white men had
never been seen before, where all of their
arts and traditions were unknown, where
men had lived thousands of years unknowu
and unknowing of all the history of the
world around them, where nothing of all
the stirring history of the human race,
from the time of Abraham to the time of
Lincoln, had ever penetrated. Pushing on
and on he came to countries and to peoples
where the last vestiges of the great world
without disappeared. He explored the
great lakes—Victoria Nyanza, Albert Ny-
anza and Tanganyika—he reached the
hitherto unknown kingdom of Uganda,
and dwelt there for a time as the guest of
its king, in peace and amity. He passed
through other kingdoms that were hostile
and where he had to fight his way. He
cut his way through vast forests that
seemed endless in their gloom and that
threatened to hold him and his band until
they should be worn out with fatigue and
privation, and he crossed vast, fertile and
cultivated plains, where he found the peo-
ple living, surrounded by plenty, and par-
ticipated in their prosperity.
*_*
He finally came to the head of a great
river called by the natives the Lualaba,
and which he was convinced found its out-
let in the Atlantic. He resolved to follow
this and to stake all on reaching the west-
ern coast. Building canoes, he embarked
his party and they floated down the river
for weeks and months, engaging in battles
at times with fierce tribes of natives, in
war canoes, and halting sometimes, to par-
tially explore some of the great affluents of
the river or to make excursions into the
country bordering its banks.
At last he began to see here and there
among the natives an implement that had
come from civilization ; that in the course
of perhaps a century, by means of barter,
had found its way into the interior. He
concluded from this that his surmises had
been correct, and that he was approaching
the coast. Finally, after three years of
journeying, his band, weakened and worn
to the point of almost utter exhaustion,
reached a point where they could open up
communication with the coast, and the civ-
ilized world soon knew that the feat of
crossing the dark continent had been ac-
complished. Then Stanley went to Europe
and wrote a wonderful book entitled
‘‘Across the Dark Continent,’’ in which he
told the story of his journeyings. It was
read with absorbing interest in all parts of
the civilized world. His adventures were
so startling and the value of his discover-
ies apparently so great as to almost chal-
lenge belief. ok
*
He found that the Lualaba of the interior
was the Congo of the coast ; that it was
one of the great rivers of the world ; that
it drained an immense territory of wonder-
ful richness, and that in the interior it and
its affluents furnished thousands of miles
of navigable water, though it was not
navigable to the sea, owing to a series of
rapids in the lower part of its course. Sub-
sequent explorations by himself and others
not only confirmed what he had said about
the region, hut added to the wonders
which it contained. Such was the impres-
sion made by his discoveries that a few
years subsequently, under the auspices of
the king of the Belgians and others, the
Congo Free State was founded, having for
its object the development of the empire
which Stanley had made known to the
world.
Accordingly, trading stations and settle-
ments were established on the upper Con-
go and its branches, and trade began to
spring up between this hitherto unknown
region and the rest of the world. Owing
to the falls on the Congo, however, the
question of transportation was very diffi-
cult, as there was a stretch of nearly 100
miles between the lower and upper naviga-
ble waters that had to be covered by cara-
van. To fill this gap a railway was pro-
jected. This railway has now been com-
pleted, and is about to be formally opened
with elaborate ceremonies; and though
compared with the great railway systems
of the continents, it is an insignificant af-
fair, yet its inauguration is an event of
more than passing interest, since it marks
the opening to the facilities of trade of a
great and rich region of the earth that 21
years ago was less known than the terri-
tory of the moon. From the western coast
almost to the shores of Nyanza there is
now a transportation system in a measure
comparable with that of our own Mississ-
ippi valley. Millions of people who, two
decades ago, had never heard of a white
man or of the great world are now placed
in almost daily communication with it,
and the journey which consumed three
years of Stanley’s time can now be made
in a few weeks.
Language of Flags.
To “strike the flag’’ is to lower the na-
tional colors in token of submission. Flags
are used as the symbol of rank and com-
mand, the officers using them being called
flag officers. Such flags are square, to dis-
tinguish them from other banners.
A “flag of truce’’ isa white flag displayed
to an enemy to indicate a desire for a par-
ley or-consultation.
The white flag is the sign of peace. Af-
ter a battle parties from both sides go out
to the field to rescue the wounded or bury
the dead under the protection of a white
flag.
The red flag is a sign of defiance and is
often used by revolutionists. In ourservice
it is the mark of danger and shows a- vessel
to be receiving or discharging her powder.
The black flag is the sign of piracy. The
yellow flag shows a vessel to be at quaran-
tine and is the sign of contagious disease.
A flag at half mast means mourning. Fish-
ing and other vessels return with a flag at
half-mast to announce the loss or death of
some of the men. Dipping a flag is lower-
ing it slightly and then hoisting it again to
salute a vessel or fort.
If the President of the United States
goes afloat, the American flag is carried in
the bows of his barge or hoisted at the
maine of the vessel on board of which he
is.
Mystery of Smell.
Problems Awaiting the Attention of Scientific Men.
Some of the Remarkable Things Noticeable
About Various Odors.—Evidences of the Remarka-
ble Development of the Sense of Smell.
One subject which in this scientific age
has not been made the matter of thorough
scientific investigation is the sense of smell.
Our knowledge of the science of odors re-
mains about where it was 50 years ago, al-
though we have learned so much about
light, heat and sound. The old imperfect
classification of smells irto ‘‘pungent, sa- |.
line and saccharine’ still remains. Indeed,
about all that most of us know is that
some smells are agreeable and some decid-
edly the reverse. There is no standard of
smell, no unit odor established as a base of
comparison. We do not know when one
smell is twice as strong as another. As a
famous chemist said, ‘Quantitative analy-
sis has not yet been applied to the skunk.'’
A writer in the Independent does, indeed,
say than on an examination of several
thousand flowers he found that there was a
connection between color and perfume.
He finds that of white flowers 14 per cent.
gave out agreeable odors ; of gray ones, 11
per cent ; of red, a little over 8 per cent ;
of yellow, a little over 6 per cent ; of blue,
5 per cent, and of green, only 2 per cent.
But, further, yellow flowers contain the
largest number with a disagreeable odor,
and the white the next largest. But this
analysis is vitiated by the fact that a per-
fume agreeable to one person may be sick-
ening to another.
There is no wmsthetic standard of smells,
and there are few which all declare to be
delightful. An English manufacturer of
perfume asserts that he is able to combine
odors so as to produce a certain effect and
talks of a perfume scale, hut this seems
rather commercial than scientific. If he
could really produce an odor which every-
body would recognize by the combination
of different smell elements, the foundation
of a science of smell would be laid.
One remarkable thing about odor is that
the emission of it does not appreciably di-
minish the mass of the body from which it
is given off. A grain of musk may fill a
room with odor for years and weigh as
much at the end of the time as it did at the
beginning. Its weight must have been di-
minished, for it is impossible to believe
that an effect on our organs of sense can be
produced without an impact of material
particles from a source of energy, but the
amount of matter dissipated is infinitesimal
in the case of an odorous body.
The sense of smell is apparently univer-
sal, but stronger in animals than in men.
The lowest orders smell with their mouths,
insects smell with their hairs, fishes smell
in water, and the acuteness of the power of
smell in dogs and in savages is well known.
Humboldt says that Peruvian Indians
could tell in the darkest night whether the
person approaching was a European, a ne-
gro or an American Indian. In those de-
prived of the other senses the power of an-
alyzing odors is sometimes abnormally de-
veloped. .
The Scotch boy James Mitchell, a blind,
deaf mute, could distinguish the individu-
als in a room into which he was led. John
Mossman, a deaf mute at Parkersburg,
W. Va., was able to locate oil wells with
the certainty that a setter finds partridges.
iis nose brought him a fortune of $500,-
000 as fees for professional smelling. It is
strange that no one has trained a dog to
point petroleum. Possibly a dog might be
taught to ‘‘stand’’ a nugget of gold in the
frozen soil of Alaska, as pigs find truffles in
Perigorg, for metals have a characteristic
smell. It is probable that everything gives
off a characteristic efluvium, though our
sense is not delicate enough to detect the
subtler ones.
Some gases, like hydrogen, have no odor;
others, like chlorine and the product of the
Hartford gas company, have a very pre-
ceptible one. There is a general idea that
a body must possess a molecular weight 15
times as great as that of hydrogen before it
can effect the olfactory nerves of human be-
ings, but even that needs confirmation.
We frequently confound taste and smell,
and it is said that no one can distinguish
an onion from an apple by taste alone.
Some odors cling to the surface of things,
as the odor of game, which rarely arises
much above the ground ; others are rapidly
diffused through the air. Why is this?
No one knows. One of the most singular
things about the sense of smell is that it is
not subject to illusions. Sight may be de-
ceived. One may imagine he sees things
which are not before him ; he may hear a
roaring in his ears when there is no sound,
but it is said that even the insane are not
subject to olfactory delusions. There are
no ghost smells. If this is true, what is
the reason, what is the explanation, of the
phenomenon ? Again, why are the earth
and fields so much more fragrant in the
morning than at noon, when, on the other
hand, the strength of most odors is in-
creased by heat ?
The scientific men ought at least to
“make a bluff’’ at some of these problems.
As it is, here is an original sense of power
of perception of the utmost refinement,
older, probably than the sense of sight, a
power for the exercise of which we use a
complicated mechanical and nervous me-
chanism, the nature and modus operandi
of which are as much a matter of conject-
ure as were those of the senses of sight and
smell 1,000 years ago. Evidently
science has not discovered everything yet.
How to Make Whitewash.
The whitewash used by the United
States government for painting lighthouses,
ete., consists of three parts of fresh Rosen-
dale cement and two parts of fine sand
mixed thoroughly with fresh water. In
applying it the wall must be wet with
clean, fresh water, to be followed imme-
diately with an application of this cement
wash. During the application the wash
must be kept well stirred and be made as
thick as can be applied conveniently with
a whitewash brush.
Buttermilk Crullers.
Though not directly in the line of bread,
these crullers form a welcome accompani-
ment to the hot breakfast coffee. Two
cup-fulls of buttermilk, half a cupful of
butter or lard, three eggs, one cupful of
sugar, one teaspoonful of salt, one cupful
of soda, and flour to make a soft dough.
Roll out, cut in any shape and fry in hot
lard. Sour milk may be substituted for
the buttermilk.
. True to his Trust.
‘Dear Harry,’’ wrote his chum, who
was in camp at Key West, “I have had
only one letter from my girl since I came
down here. Are vou looking after her as
you promised ?’’
“Dear Jerry,” wrote his friend in re-
sponse. ‘I am—six evenings in the
week.”
——There is nothing truer than the say-
ing that the more one has the more one
wants. This applies especially to iced
beverages this weather.
The Thermometer.
We are all familiar, perhaps, with the
thermometer as it stands on our desks or
hangs on our walls in its silver case or
hand-painted stand ; but I wonder how
many know that the name they see on the
scale—Fahrenheit—is the man to whom
they owe this useful instrument.
One hundred and fifty years ago very few
people in America had ever seen a ther-
mometer. At that time there were proba-
bly about six of these instruments in this
country, Franklin owning one.
If we could not feel the cold or heat the
mercury in the little round tube would
show whether the temperature was high or
low.
The winter of 1709 was very cold in Dant-
zic, Fahrenheit's native home, and in ex-
perimenting he found that by mixing salt
and snow a degree of cold could be reached
equal to that of the coldest day, and called
it, when he made the scale of his thermom-
eter, zero. The boiling point he made 212
degrees above it. This thermometer Fah-
renheit made when he was still a young
man, and not long after he became so in-
terested in the study of natural science
that he gave up his business and traveled
in Germany, France, and England to study
under the learned men of those countries.
At last he settled in Amsterdam as a maker
of philosophical instruments.
He was not content to follow in the foot-
steps of those who had already made in-
ventions, hut wished to improve upon
them. The thermometer, as made at this
time, 1720, was merely a glass tube from
which the air had been expelled, and then
filled with spirits of wine.
Fahrenheit made two changes in his
thermometer—instead of wine he filled the
bulb and tube with mercury, and second
he arranged the scale which we still see on
our thermometers and which bears his
name. This scale has heen accepted by
three countries—Great Britain, Holland
and the United States.
+ Our knowledge has heen greatly enhanced
by the use of the thermometer. The low-
est degree of artificial cold that has been
produced is 187 below zero, it is said, and
the hardest thing to freeze is carbonic acid.
Salt water freezes at fourteen above zero.
These are ‘nly a very few of the facts that
have been brought to light by the use of
the thermometer, and as its usefulness has
increased it has made it an almost indis-
pensable instrument.
Besides improving the thermometer
Fahrenheit was an untiring worker and in-
ventor. He died at the age of fifty. with a
great many projects incomplete.
A Standard of Wealth in Russian Ara
menia.
In arid and semi-desert regions the
question of fuel is one that taxes the re-
sources and ingenuity of the inhabitants.
The people who live in Russian Armenia
have solved the question in a way that
forms a very striking feature in the views
of all the villages of the plateau. After
the grain has been threshed, the remaining
straw is piled up in great stacks on the
low, flat roofs of the houses and stables,
where it will be convenient for use as bed-
ding for the stock. Much of the straw,
however, is mixed with the fresh manure
as that is taken from the stables from day
to day. The mixing is usually done in
round beds made by raising a low ridge of
earth, using an implement like a hoe for
the work. Then square or round cakes of
the mixture are made with the hands and
plastered on a wall to dry. When dry,
these cakes are piled up in conical or
pyramidal heaps, which are frequently ten
or fifteen feet in height. These piles seem
to be hollow, so as to permit a free circula-
tion of air to insure thorough drying. In
many cases there is a small opening at the
bottom of the stack to allow of its being
used as a kennel or chicken house or some-
thing else of that sort. These dried cakes
of dung mixed with straw are almost the
sole dependency of the country people for
fuel, and, as a consequence, in the semi-
desert, the man who possesses a large
quantity of this material is considered
wealthy and his daughters are desirable
matches.
A Welsh Sermon.
The Welsh are noted for their fondness
for sermons and music. The annual Eis-
tedfod, the national bardic congress, is at-
tended by thousands, who, on the great
day of festival, ‘‘chair’’ the fortunate bard,
the winner of the prize.
A similar enthusiasm greets the Welsh
preacher who is eloquent in speech and
practical in expounding the Scriptures,
The following story of a Welsh preacher,
told in the ‘Journals of Walter White,’
illustrates the graphic, simple exposition,
which commanded the attention of the
congregation :
‘‘Noe worked at the Ark, driving in nails
plump, plump, plomp. The haythen
came and said, ‘Noe, there’s good hunting
in the woods here, hares and foxes, leave
your work and come and hunt.” But Noe
kept on hammering, plump, plump, plump.
‘The haythen came again : ‘Noe, there’s
good beerat the Red Lion, leave your work
and come and drink.” But Noe kept on
hammering, plump, plump ; and then the
rain came, and the flood lifted up the Ark,
and carried Noe away, and left the hay-
then all screaming and squabbling in the
water.”’
Urges a Trained Navy.
Admiral Dewey Comments on the Destructions of
Cervera’s Fleet.
On board the United States flagship
Olympia, Manilla Bay, July 1%, via Hong
Kong, July 21.—The good news of Admiral
Sampson’s great victory is most welcome.
While I might suggest that the results
may cause me to look to my own laurels.
I gladly express my sincere gratification at
the destruction of the Spanish fleet in Cu-
ban waters, which with their loss in Manila
bay must end the Spanish sea power in
this war, if not forever.
From the telegrams just at hand I note
the remarkable similarity of the Spanish
fighting off Santiago to that in Manila bay.
In both battles their firing was ineffective.
They fought their ships to the least advan-
tage and finally scuttled or burned them to
cover their defeat. The small loss of life
on the American side there is, indeed, ex-
faontivary and rivals our deathless record
ere.
In view of the ships engaged, I trust
that the results of these two battles, as
well as lesseriincidents, may prove to the
American people the value of a strong and
well trained navy. GEORGE DEWEY.
When She Takes Her Time.
‘‘Is your wife a rapid reader ?”’
‘Yes, unless I am waiting for the pa-
per.”
——It is so easy for a man to tell a wo-
man that she can depend upon him, but
things are different when it comes to the
time of her depending.
FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN.
Few people can successfully massage
themselves, even if they try conscientious-
ly. Itis best to exchange treatment with
a friend, one who has nice, strong fingers
would be preferable, three evenings a week
if possible, but even one treatment of an
hour’s duration each week wil] bring about
good results.
First clean the face thoroughly with a
good cleaning cream, kneading it down
well into the flesh. Be careful not to loosen
the skin from the underlying tissues or
stretch it. A skin that does not fit close] y
soon gets baggy, and falls in folds or wrink-
les. Press it firmly with the fleshy cush-
ions at the tips of the fingers until there is
a decided glow, and the oil, mixed with
dirt and dust, oozes out on the surface. In
doing this, remember not to rub in any
way that would make extra lines appear on
the face. Now take a coarse towel, wrap it
around the fingers and wipe out well. If
powder has been used, there will be a
brown layer on the cloth, particularly if
the powder contains lead. Rub back from
the center of the face and on the cheeks
toward the ear, always working up except
under the eye. Do not touch the eye until
you have had a great deal of experience in
massaging.
Now a word about the nose. For those
who have blackheads, I would say, rub
hard. Bring plenty of blood to the surface.
Press the sides firmly together a great many
times, causing the blood to circulate freely
and it will dissolve and carry away the
bardened matter in the glands. The dull
red or purple hue noticed in many noses is
generally caused by sluggishness of the
blood, and will entirely disappear on heing
well massaged every evening.
After the face has been cleaned and
rubbed bathe in hot water, rinsing contin-
uously for about five minutes. Use no soap
in the water. If this treatment is followed
carefully you will retire with a decided
glow all over the face and neck.
In the morning just wipe with a cloth
dipped in cold water, and afterward if the
skin has an oily shiny appearance, rub on
a dilute solution of salt and water.
You will notice the horizontal lines.
Now remember that the skin alone is not
responsible for this condition. The muscle
under it, from long practice, has become
habitually contracted, so that it is neces-
sary, not only to efface the wrinkles from
the skin, but also to stretch and draw the
muscle to its original length. The large
muscle of the forehead, the oceipito-front-
{ alis, is attached along the level of the eye-
brows, its fibres running up and back to
the hair on the head. When it contracts
or shortens, the skin, remaining the same,
is larger, and, therefore, lies in folds. If
the muscle remained in a semi-contracted
state, the lines would be permanent. Some-
times the contraction is so great that deep
cuts are always to be seen across the fore-
head.
To take out these lines and lengthen the
muscle, stroke up, pressing the fingers in
firmly in order to reach the inner fibres,
Begin nearest the center of the face and
work along on the line, rubbing up well
the whole length of the wrinkle. Smooth
the skin up, leaving no part untouched.
A hot oil brushed on the lines while you
are working them hastens the cure. When
you have gone over all the lines in this
way, begin again at the first and massage
them all again continuing the treatment
for half an hour. You will be quite sur-
prised at the result. If the lines are not
very deep they will have entirely disap-
peared and even if they are deep ruts in
the flesh, still the improvement is so well
marked that one is encouraged to go on
with the work.
Now the perpendiclar lines between the
eyes. These are caused by scowling. Ex-
amine in the glass, and you can easily see
how they are brought to the face. You
will generally find two lines. They are
caused by the contraction of the corrugator
supercilli muscles, which extend on either
side from the space between the eyes to the
highest portion of the eyebrow arch. In
eradicating the lines caused by these mus-
cles, rub—not up, as in the case of the hor-
izontal lines, but crosswise—holding the
skin firmly with the fingers of the other
hand to prevent undue stretching. Rub
out from the center of the face, beginning
below and working up on the line.
To take out frowning lines requires more
care and patience than the forehead lines,
but if the subject on which you are working
tries very hard not to bring them back,
they will disappear in a short time. It is
well, even after the lines are gone, to rub
the forehead a little each night, and leave
a small particle of oil in the place where
the lines used to be.
It is true that high collars work the ruin
of pretty throats. The woman who throngh
the spring and early summer months fol-
lowed fashion and wore close, neat-looking
linen collars or stocks of velvet or ribbon,
now, as the sultry midsummer days are
approaching, wisely casts about for a be-
coming finish for a low neck. With the
new freedom that will be given the lox
closely confined neck it is to be hoped that
before the season of decollete gowns comes
around again naturally pretty throats will
grow round and full again.
It is the fashion this warm season to be
comfortable and as comfortable gowns have
been designed with new beauties added,
the most careful follower of fashion’s ruling
smiles with approval upon the collarless
frocks.
The surplice form is an old favorite re-
vived, and is becoming to any woman,
young or old, provided her neck is not ex-
tremely thin, when, of course, a collar built
up tolerably high should always be worn.
The original was a dainty thing of sheer
white lawn, the skirt ruffled, and the hod-
ice simply fulled at the shoulder in front,
with wide fine lace pieces set in. The fronts
crossed and finished a little at one side
with a wheel bow. The back, with lace
strips set in, was shirred at the shoulders
to correspond with the fronts, the fullness.
drawn down narrow to the center back
seam. A little frill of lace went all around
the neck and down the fronts. The tops.
of the sleeves had lace bands set in round-
ing points, and the fullness was bunched
up close at the sleeve seams.
In cutting this bodice fora slender figure
only shoulder and under-arm seams are
necessary, but to fit a stout figure well,
shaped under-arm pieces will be required.
For a colored lawn or gingham this simple
model is equally suitable, and a grass linen
gown with bands of ecru and white or col-
ored embroidery set in would be very smart.
Wide, square yokes are having a great
vogue. A pretty little frock that the maker
of called a ‘“‘creation’’ when she showed it
to me was of pale yellow organdie, with
sleeves and yoke of alternating rows of
finely tucked white organdie and lace. A
wide frill of lace outlined the yoke. The
collar was composed of tucking and lace
and was sewn to the.round neck, turning
over in points in front. The bodice was
fulled and slightly bloused. The girdle
was a soft twist of yellow gauze.
v